


The Kings and the Voyeur

by jaydee09



Series: Two Kings [34]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Drama, Fun in the Iron Hills, Humour, M/M, Negative Dain Portrayal, Oral Sex, Peeping, The Joys of Camping, Two-way Mirrors, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 11:32:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4303236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaydee09/pseuds/jaydee09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin and Thranduil  are helping to escort little Durin on a visit to his grandfather, Dain, in the Iron Hills.  Everyone knows that the trip is unlikely to be a barrel of laughs, what with the grim surroundings and the bad-tempered host.  But, what they don’t expect are peep-holes and two-way mirrors.  I can imagine that our two kings won’t be best pleased when they find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kings and the Voyeur

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aninnina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aninnina/gifts).



This is a thank you to aninnina for suggesting that a visit to Dain would make a good story!

 

.o00o.

 

The Kings and the Voyeur

 

Pt I

 

_Camping_

 

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” whispered Thorin to the elven king.

 

“What?  Us having a screw under the trees whilst Brangwyn and her family are possibly within hearing distance?” responded Thranduil with a certain amount of amusement.

 

“No, I don’t mean that,” hissed the dwarf.  “But, will you keep your voice down, just in case?”  And, wriggling his backside more firmly onto the elf’s engorged member, he couldn’t help but let out a stifled moan.  “A bit harder please,” he gasped politely.

 

Thranduil let out a bark of laughter and was rewarded with another hiss and an elbow to the ribs.  “Well, what _do_ you mean?” he asked, thrusting as hard as he could.

 

“Hang on,” panted Thorin in a strangled voice.  And, gripping his lover’s buttocks in a vice-like hold, he flung back his head in a soft mew of pleasure as he came all over the elf’s breast.

 

The elven king rested on an elbow and grinned down at him.  “I don’t know how you do it so quietly,” he said.  “If I had come then, the whole forest would have known about it.”

 

“Then it’s lucky that you showed a bit of restraint,” was the response, as Thorin tidied up the mess.  “I’m sure that Brangwyn and Young Thorin have no desire to hear your caterwauling.”

 

The elven king leaned over and bit one of the dwarf’s nipples.  “No, I’m saving it up until we have some privacy behind the stone walls of the Iron Hills when I shall scream to my heart’s content.  _You’re_ the one who can’t go without a good fuck every night, even when we’re camping out with your heir and his family.”

 

Thorin, Thranduil, Brangwyn, Young Thorin and their toddler, Durin, were all going on a courtesy visit to Dain.  He was the child’s grandfather, after all.  Camping out together had caused a bit of a strain at bed-time, even though they tried not to place their bedrolls within earshot of each other every night.  Brangwyn played along.  “That’s a good idea,” she said, “when Thorin suggested that they sleep apart.  “You don’t want to be disturbed by Durin.  He sometimes cries in the middle of the night and can wake up really early.”

 

They all nodded sagely at their sensible plan but their nearness to each other had still put the dead hand on any unrestrained love-making.

 

“Enforced celibacy is yet another good reason as to why I think this trip is a bad idea,” Thorin muttered and he rubbed his nipple.  “That hurts, I’ll have you know,” he added.   Then he snuggled down into the elf’s embrace.  They would reach the fortress of Dain the next day, but when Brangwyn and the Prince had suggested the visit, Thorin had had a bad feeling about it.

 

“It’s all going to go wrong,” he whispered to Thranduil as he began to doze off.  “You mark my words.”

 

.o00o.

 

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this trip,” whispered Brangwyn to her husband so as not to wake the child who slept between them.  “I know I suggested it but that’s only because Dain is entitled to see his only grandson – not to mention his only son.  You haven’t seen each other since we got married several years ago.”

 

“Well, I’m glad you see the error of your ways,” sighed the Prince and heir to Erebor.  “I’m not quite sure how pleased he will be to see us all either.  He wanted to marry you himself and he definitely wasn’t happy with Thorin and Thranduil marrying each other: it was both an M/M and a dwarf/elf union and if he could have thought of a way of me inheriting the throne any other way, he would have suggested it.”

 

“But surely he wants to see little Durin?”

 

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” was the terse response, “but he doesn’t like children very much, you know.”

 

Brangwyn stretched across the sleeping toddler to give her husband a kiss.  She knew how much he had suffered at his father’s hands.  “Well, we’re doing our duty,” she said stoutly.  “And, as soon as it’s done, then we shall make a polite exit.”

 

“Can’t come soon enough,” said the Prince.  And he returned her kiss.

 

.o00o.

 

As they rode over the rise the next day with little Durin sitting before his father on the saddle, they could see the Iron Hills stretched out before them.  They should arrive at Dain’s stronghold by the evening.  Thorin had taken refuge there when Smaug had driven him from Erebor and Young Thorin, his heir, had grown up there and was now returning to his childhood home.  With his mother dead and with a bully of a father who had shown no interest in him, he had been a sad and lonely child.  It was a sullen young man, clothed in the cloak of arrogance, who had finally arrived at Thorin’s court to be trained as his heir because the king, married to another male, would never produce a child of his own.   It had taken a lot of sympathy and effort from Thorin and Brangwyn to turn him into the fine young man he had become.

 

The conservative and illiberal Dain of the Iron Hills was disgusted by the sexual alliance between king and king but had eventually used it to benefit his own family.  Under the circumstances, he knew he had to hold his tongue.  But, he would never forgive his son for humiliating him when he had snatched the lovely Brangwyn from right under his nose.  Ah, the complications of family relationships!

 

“Not exactly the most beautiful place in the world,” grinned Thranduil, as they gazed down upon the slag heaps and the blast furnaces which lined the valley leading to Dain’s stronghold.

 

“No, it’s grim,” muttered Thorin, “a bit like him.  But he took us in when Smaug drove us out – unlike some I could mention – and I shall always be grateful to him for that.”

 

Thranduil huffed a bit: the way he had turned his back on Thorin when the dragon came that day was still a sore point.  But Brangwyn tried to look confident and said: “Well, I’m sure Dain will be really pleased to see us and we shall have a very warm welcome, regardless of the surroundings.”

 

The prince just sat slumped in his saddle looking very depressed to be home once more.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt II

 

_Relatives_

 

As they approached the gates to the stronghold, the fierce guards raised their spears and challenged them.  Thorin sighed: Brangwyn had wanted their trip to be a surprise and so there had been no letter sent to warn Dain or his men of their arrival.  “It’s not an official visit – just an informal family get-together and I don’t want him to make a fuss,” Brangwyn had said.  (“Don’t worry, he won’t,” her husband had muttered.)  But, now, Thorin was beginning to think that this also had been a bad idea.

 

He stepped forward and one of the guards recognised him.  But they were still escorted with bad grace into Dain’s presence.

 

The heavily bearded and thick-set dwarf lord looked startled and displeased.

 

“What are you doing here?” he growled.  “You haven’t been kicked out of your kingdom again, have you, Thorin?” 

 

The dwarven king bit his tongue.

 

Brangwyn intervened with a forced cheerfulness and bent down to plant a big kiss on her father-in-law’s cheek.  “It’s a surprise, Dain, because we thought that you would love to see your new grandson.   Little Durin is nearly a year old already.”  And she picked up the child and carried him over to his grandfather.

 

Dain looked him up and down and Durin buried his face in his mother’s neck at sight of the glowering old man.

 

“Not a milk-sop, I hope,” snarled the dwarf.  “The line of Durin produces nothing but warriors, so I hope he’s not the misfit.”

 

“Of course not,” said Brangwyn hastily.  “He’s just tired.  When he’s had a sleep you will see what a sturdy and courageous child your son has produced.”  And she thrust the boy into her husband’s arms before he punched his father on the nose.

 

_Good start_ , thought Thorin.

 

Thranduil stood slightly apart, observing the group with some amusement.  He had met Dain only briefly at his wedding, a reluctant guest, who, after the ceremony, had beat a hasty retreat.  And he hadn’t improved with age.  It was startling that one as beautiful as Thorin should be related to such an unattractive dwarf lord and one with such a vile temper too.  He could see him glaring at Brangwyn and his son.  He had desired the dwarf woman but the prince had got his foot in the door first.  The elf guessed that there would always be a rift between them now because Dain saw his rejection as an immense slight upon his majesty and his manhood.

 

Thranduil could see that he still retained some respect for Thorin: his partner was a great warrior and could not help but command respect, not even from Dain.  But, he could also see the disdain and disgust that flickered in the dwarf lord’s eyes whenever they rested on the elven king.  Thranduil didn’t mind.  Dain was lonely and embittered and was only to be pitied.

 

But, what did anger him was the dwarf’s total lack of interest in little Durin.  The child sensed the dislike and shrank away from his grandfather.  How dare he reject the most wonderful child on Middle-earth!  Thranduil’s mother’s heart heaved with indignation.

 

Dain was also surveying his guests.  His lip curled in a sneer as he noticed the fine clothing of his son: getting a bit above himself, he thought, now that he is the heir of Durin.  And his glance slid sideways to Brangwyn.  He had been on the point of marrying her and had been really keen to take her to his bed when his son had somehow managed to get one step ahead of him and had married her himself.  The humiliation and the frustration had been immense.

 

His glance travelled further to the child.  Well, he might be glad to have an heir but children didn’t otherwise interest him.  And he raised his eyes to the tall and beautiful elf.  Who would have thought that he would ever entertain one of these faithless, arrogant creatures in his halls?  But, there he stood with a faint smile on his lips, doubtless laughing at the poverty of his humble kingdom.  If it weren’t for Thorin, it would give him great pleasure to throw him out on his pointy ear.  And he sent a poisonous  glower across the room.  Thranduil gave him a mocking bow in return.

 

“Well,” growled Dain ungraciously, “I suppose you’d like to be shown to your rooms.  You’ve caught me on the back foot a bit so don’t complain if the sheets are damp.”

 

Young Thorin flushed as he listened to his father’s less than warm welcome and thought about the way that the dwarven king had received him in Erebor.  The contrast couldn’t have been greater.

 

Dain, meanwhile, was thinking very quickly about what rooms to allot to his different guests.  He turned to a servant.  “Show my son and his family to the Onyx Apartment,” he finally decided.  “They should be comfortable there.”

 

The prince sighed with relief.  The fortress was nowhere near as fine as even the poorest rooms in Erebor but the Onyx rooms were spacious and quite elegant.  He needn’t be ashamed of the poverty of his background because his father had allotted them some wretched hole.

 

The servant led them away and Dain bowed his head to the two kings.  “The Panelled Apartment should satisfy even your fine tastes (and he glanced at Thranduil).  And I would like to think that even the Iron Hills can meet with the requirements of kings.  I shall show you there myself.”

 

The two were surprised at this sudden graciousness but they were too tired to ask for more than a proper bed in a half-decent room.  They bowed their thanks and Dain turned and led them from the dark and echoing hall.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt III

 

_Spy-holes_

 

The way to the guest apartment was poorly lit and resembled more of a tunnel than a corridor.   Thranduil thought of his beautiful and airy palace in Mirkwood and of the grandeur even in the corridors of Erebor and shook his head.  This was more like living in the style of rabbits or moles and he wondered about the apartment that they were being led to.

 

He needn’t have worried.  After what seemed like miles, they finally reached a beautifully carved door buried deep inside a panelled recess.  As Dain unlocked it and they passed through, Thranduil patted it approvingly:  “Nice and thick,” he grinned over the dwarf lord’s head and Thorin glared back at him, concerned that Dain would understand the elf’s suggestive remark.

 

Of course, Dain understood, but he led them courteously into surprisingly beautiful accommodation.  There were two rooms and a bathing pool but the special feature of this apartment was the exquisitely carved panelling that lined the rough stone walls.  The rooms were also draped with tapestries depicting dwarven history and there was an absolutely massive four-poster whose supports, hung with elaborately embroidered silks, reached up to the ceiling.  Thranduil winked over Dain’s head.  Thorin ignored him.

 

“This is a truly lovely apartment,” said Thranduil appreciatively – and it wasn’t just flattery.  The wooden panels made him feel quite at home.

 

“Yes,” replied Dain smugly.  “These are our oldest state rooms.  My ancestors had them panelled as a quick measure to cover the bare walls until such time as we could replace the wood with marble.  But, this never happened because the apartment was too far from the centre of things for the Lord of the Iron Hills to want to use them.  But, they’re good enough for guests.”  This final remark rather spoiled his graciousness.

 

“More than good enough,” smiled Thorin, especially pleased because he saw his lover’s pleasure.

 

“And now,” continued Dain, “you must be very tired.  I shall leave you to rest a while.  Food will be served in the dining-hall in two hours – I shall send a servant to fetch you.”  And then he bowed himself out of the room and shut the door behind him.

 

Thranduil strode across the room and locked the door.  And then he turned with a salaciously evil grin on his face.  “Alone at last,” he murmured in sultry tones.  “I think I shall explode if I bottle things up even one moment longer.”

 

Thorin laughed and pulled off his boots and breeches.  “I’m all yours, my love,” he said, and opened wide his arms.  He went to pull his shirt off over his head but the elven king just unlaced his own breeches and grabbed him.

 

“No time for the niceties,” he gasped.  And he crushed him with a groan to his breast, pulling one heavy, muscular thigh up over his hip……..

 

…….Behind the heavily carved panelling, Dain had an eye pressed tightly to a peep-hole.  The apartment and the narrow corridor that ran secretly down one side of it had been built for political purposes.  Guests were given the rooms if they were suspected of being engaged in nefarious activities: there was a sliding door to the narrow space in the panelled recess just outside the entrance to the apartment and Dain had slipped inside the passageway the moment he had shut the door behind him.  Very few people knew the secret of the rooms, not even his son.

 

And now he was spying on the two kings.  He wasn’t after treacherous conversation – he didn’t suspect any – he just wanted to see what they got up to once they were alone together.  But, this was beyond his expectations and he felt aroused and repulsed, all at the same time.  They were only standing six feet away from his hidey-hole and he had a superb view.  Thorin was undressing opposite him and he experienced both envy and awe as his king’s swollen prick protruded from under the hem of his shirt.  He felt short-changed that Thorin didn’t strip off completely – he really wanted to see both of them naked – but the urgency of Thranduil’s desires indicated a speedy and violent fuck.  That disappointed him too: he wanted to witness something slow and languorous, something that would titillate him for an hour or more.   And he slid a hand down the front of his own breeches and began to stimulate himself.

 

Thorin had raised a second leg and now clasped the elf tightly around the waist with both of them.  Ahh, thought Dain, his view was blocked.  But, suddenly, Thorin was spun around with his back to the panelling and the dwarf lord’s view improved considerably again.

 

What a delightful rounded backside Thorin had – even though, Dain thought, he had no interest in fucking the male of the species himself.  Then came the truly arousing bit: Thranduil clasped those buttocks and parted them, and Dain could see the elf’s swollen prick sliding between the crack and then penetrating his king.   _By Mahal!  How disgusting was that_!  But his hand began to work even faster on his own member.

 

And the noises they were making!  No wonder the elven king had remarked upon the thickness of the door.  But, he had to admit that the loud groans from the elf and the deep grunts from the dwarf added somehow to his enjoyment.

 

But, suddenly, the reason why Thranduil had spun his lover around became apparent: carrying the dwarf, he staggered forward and smashed him against the panelling.  This obviously gave his thrusts more purchase, but, unfortunately, one of Thorin’s buttocks was completely pressed up against the peep-hole and Dain could see absolutely nothing except a square inch of skin.

 

The grunting and groaning became louder and a rhythmic banging shook the panelled walls: if they weren’t careful, thought Dain irritably, they would burst right through.  And then, suddenly, on a loud cry, the pounding stopped _.  Too soon, too soon_ , were Dain’s first frustrated thoughts.

 

It was too soon for Thorin as well.

 

“I couldn’t keep up with you,” Dain heard him gasp.

 

“Sorry,” came the exhausted response, “but I couldn’t stop.”

 

Then the pair moved away from the panelling and Dain could see the elf sliding slowly down Thorin’s body in order to take his still aroused member in his mouth.  The dwarf lord’s hand tightened appreciatively on himself once more.  But a laughing Thorin raised Thranduil to his feet.  “Come on,” he said. “The bed will be more comfortable.”

 

Immediately, as the word ‘bed’ was spoken, Dain scurried along the narrow passage and hastily climbed the ladder that was propped up at the end.  This emerged above the ceiling level of the bedroom and he crawled along a wide beam until he was above the bed area where he positioned himself comfortably for a good view.

 

The two kings were stripping off completely and the dwarf lord got his wish at last.  The heaviness of his breathing increased at the sight of them, one so broad and muscular, the other so lithe and slender.

 

Well, the elf might be slender but he was also very strong.  And he picked up the dwarf gleefully and flung him on the bed.  The dwarf sprawled with his legs apart and the elven king made a dive between his thighs.  But, Thorin suddenly looked up from the platinum head bobbing so delightfully in his groin and let out a loud yell.

 

“What?” exclaimed a startled Thranduil.

 

“Mahal!  Look at that!” was the horrified response as Thorin gazed up into the darkness of the rich hangings.  The elf rolled over onto his back and looked too.  And then he roared with laughter.

 

“A mirror!” he shouted.  “Now why have I never thought of having one of those installed?”

 

“Well, if you had done,” huffed Thorin, “it would have put paid to our love-making in Mirkwood, let me tell you.”

 

The elf lay next to him, leaning on one elbow and grinning with amusement.  “It never ceases to amaze me, Thorin, what a good fuck you are and yet how inhibited you can be too.  So, tell me: what’s wrong with a mirror?”

 

“It’s perverted,” growled the dwarven king.  “It’s a sort of….sort of……vanity, watching your own reflection as if you need that image as a stimulant.   All I need is you fucking me to reach a climax – I don’t need to see an image of you doing it.”  He knew he was explaining himself badly, but there was something quite disturbing about the mirror.  And he hastily glanced away from the reflection above their heads and covered his genitals with an embarrassed hand.

 

“And Dain must know what room he was showing us to.  He doubtless got a kick out of the thought of us discovering the mirror.  I bet he’s having a good laugh.”  Then he gave Thranduil a peck on the cheek.  “I’m sorry, my love, but I’ve completely lost my erection.  I don’t exactly find this bed or its mirror very arousing.”

 

Thranduil sighed.  “You’re no fun,” he said.  “Let’s have a bath and see if things turn out differently in the pool.  Then we’ll get ready for dinner.”

 

Dain, peering down through the two-way mirror, felt annoyed.  His treat had been spoiled – and he had had such a good view, too.  He had also lost his erection, especially when he heard them mention the pool because he had no peep-hole in a suitable position there.  But, looking on the bright side, it was only a pleasure deferred.  He would return to the mirror later tonight and hope to see a bit more action.

 

He edged back along the beam, down the ladder and along the corridor to the sliding exit. He could hear moans and grunts coming from the pool area and felt frustrated that he couldn’t see what was going on.  He really ought to rectify the situation, he thought, and perhaps he could sneak in with a drill to their apartment when they were otherwise occupied and make a hole in an appropriate place through the panelling.  He didn’t want to lose an opportunity like this again before they returned to Erebor.

 

As Dain stomped off to his own rooms, Thorin was reaching his delayed climax.  Thranduil’s clever fingers and mouth had worked their magic in the pool.  The water was deep but the elf had ducked under it anyway as Thorin leaned back and clutched the marble rim with outstretched arms.  Those lips, nibbling and sucking at his cock, were extraordinarily arousing and it didn’t take him long to come on a great cry.  Thranduil bobbed up to the surface, gasping for breath.  “Hope that was a good one after all my effort,” he grinned.

 

“Certainly was,” gasped Thorin, trying hard to catch his breath.  “And no mirrors involved either.”

 

“Shame,” said Thranduil.  “I would have liked to experiment.”  Then he paused, stroking the dwarf seductively with soapy fingers.  “If you go on top, you won’t see the reflection.  How about we give it a try?  Just for me?”

 

Thorin succumbed as the slippery fingers pushed inside him.  “All right,” he groaned.  “Just the once.”  Thranduil pressed harder.  “After dinner,” he panted.  There was some desperate splashing in the water as they responded passionately to each other once more.

 

Dain, lying on his own bed and fondling himself, could only guess at what he was missing.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt IV

 

_Mirrors_

 

When it was time for dinner, Dain sent a servant to show the two kings the way down to the dining hall, as promised.  “Take them there the long way round,” he ordered.

 

Then, as soon as they had made their exit, the dwarf lord slipped into their rooms and hastily drilled a hole through the centre of a carved flower.  Good view of the pool, he thought.  After that, he took the short cut to the dining-hall, hiding his drill in a store cupboard en route, and managed to arrive in the dining hall just moments before the kings, feeling only slightly flustered.

 

Now that he had discovered the pornographic pleasures of the Panelled Apartment, he must make sure that Thorin and his party didn’t leave the Iron Hills too soon.  And so, he was surprisingly pleasant and welcoming when his guests arrived.  His son, in particular, blinked in amazement as his father bowed them all into seats on either hand and took little Durin upon his knee.

 

Before him on the table was a dish of sweetmeats which he fed the child with his own hand.

 

“Oh, you’re so naughty,” laughed Brangwyn.  “And before dinner too.”  But she was pleased that Dain was making such a fuss of her son.

 

“He’s yours for life,” said Thorin   “You’re as bad as Thranduil.”  And Durin responded so well to his grandfather’s spoiling that he was quite content to sit there on his lap for the rest of the meal whilst Dain fussed over him.  Thranduil wasn’t quite sure if he were jealous or not.

 

During the meal, Dain showed a lively interest in the politics of Mirkwood and Erebor.  He asked some intelligent questions and praised Young Thorin for his progress as heir to the throne.

 

“I always knew, lad, that you would turn out well,” he rumbled.  The prince felt quite moved by his father’s attention.

 

And he was very sweet and flattering towards Brangwyn - without being slimy.  Everyone was open mouthed at the apparent change that had come over him.

 

“So, are you staying for the week?” he finally asked.

 

Well, that had not been their intention, especially after the less than warm welcome they had received earlier in the day.  But the evening had passed so pleasantly that they all began to wonder, _Why not?_ And so it was agreed.

 

.o00o.

 

Dain followed the kings back to their rooms at a distance and, as soon as they had disappeared inside, he opened the sliding panel and entered the secret passage.  Thorin and Thranduil had gone straight to the bedroom and so the dwarf hastily climbed the ladder and edged himself into position above the mirror, hoping that the dwarven king had overcome his dislike of the bed with its mirror.  He was rewarded.

 

They had stripped completely and now Thorin was lying on top of the elf, albeit rather reluctantly.

 

“I honestly don’t see the thrill to be had,” he muttered, “in seeing my backside pumping up and down.  What’s erotic in that?  In your position, I would just burst out laughing.”

 

“Perhaps you’re right,” responded the elf.  “I might get a better view if you rode astride me in an upright position so that I can see myself stroking you off.”

 

Thorin agreed and, kneeling athwart his lover’s thighs, he carefully lowered himself upon Thranduil’s engorged member.  “Aah,” he groaned, “almost the best sensation in the world.”

 

“And what’s the best sensation?” asked Thranduil rather indignantly.

 

“My cock being inside you,” was the amused response, “and fucking you until your teeth rattle.”

 

“Well, perhaps tomorrow morning, then,” offered the elf, as Thorin began to ride him.

 

And Dain, with his nose pressed to the glass, made a note to rise with the dawn the next day.

 

Thranduil was enjoying himself.  Thorin looked utterly magnificent in the mirror and the elf was having a hard time not coming too soon.  But, whenever the dwarven king saw his eyes glaze over, he slowed down and helped to sustain their combined pleasure a little longer.

 

And this was how Dain liked it too: nice and leisurely.  And when the two kings finally came, he came with them.  He wanted to cry out but showed immense control, biting his lip hard and keeping any display of ecstasy inside himself.  He lay exhausted on the wide beam whilst the kings lay exhausted in each other’s arms.  He had to remind himself not to fall asleep and accidentally fall upon the mirror.  The thought that he might come crashing down upon the bed in a shower of glass kept him awake.

 

The kings were still awake too.  “Let’s go to the pool,” Thorin suggested.  “Who knows what I shall manage after a bathe?”  And the two of them climbed rather sleepily out of bed.

 

_Pool!  Pool!_ thought Dain, his eyes now wide open.  _Yesss!_   Time to try out his new spy hole.  And he began to edge back quickly along the beam.

 

Thorin and Thranduil had just reached the bedroom door when they were distracted by a noise above them.  Startled, they looked up, just in time to see plaster rain down as a foot and then a whole leg protruded through the ceiling.

 

Thranduil was the first to react.  He leaped forward and, grabbing the leg, pulled hard and Dain came crashing down upon the floor.  He lay there stunned, his breeches agape, as the kings slowly put two and two together.  The elf jumped up onto a tallboy and hauled himself through the gaping hole.  Minutes later, he returned, a look of fury on his face.  “There’s a secret passage,” he snarled, “and the mirror is two-way.  He’s seen everything.”

 

Dain groaned and recovered consciousness.  Thranduil stepped forward and, seizing him by the collar, hauled him to his feet.  “You piece of shit!” he spat at him in dwarvish; and Thorin let out a bark of laughter.  He had taught the elf a few choice dwarvish phrases but would never have guessed that this would be the circumstances of their usage.

 

But Dain was tough and not one to be easily shaken.  “Unhand me, sir,” he snarled.  “Remove your filthy elvish hands from my clothing.”  And he wrenched himself away.  “I needed proof of your disgusting ways and I got it,” he said arrogantly,” his head held high.  “Which of the two of us is the piece of shit, I wonder?”

 

Thorin shook his head.  He had to admire Dain’s outrageous gall.   But Thranduil burned white hot with anger and, drawing back his fist, hit the dwarven lord hard in the face.  Dain, not one to go down easily, sprang to his feet, put his hands about the elven king’s throat and began to throttle him.

 

Thorin intervened.  It was beneath the dignity of kings to fight like this and he dragged them apart.  They stood there, their breasts heaving and looking daggers at each other.

 

“Well,” said Thorin with his arms folded.  “You can fight this out in a duel, like gentlemen, thus letting the whole of Middle-earth know what has happened here, or we can consider the shame that Dain has brought upon himself through this incident as punishment enough for one of the line of Durin.”

 

It was then that the dwarf lord came to his senses.  He drew himself up to his full, stocky height and said in rather subdued tones:  “Pray accept my deepest apologies, my lords.”

 

Thorin kicked Thranduil in the ankle as the elf continued to glare.  “Accepted,” he finally said in a clipped voice.

 

Thorin followed suit and added:  “You’re a fool, Dain.  Just for a bit of sexual satisfaction, you could have lost your entire family.”

 

Dain looked up sharply.  “Are you going to tell my son?” he asked anxiously.

 

Thorin paused.  Then: “No, I think not.  It would be sad to deprive a son of his father and a child of its grandfather if they should know what has happened here.  But we shall be leaving tomorrow.  And,” he added, as he showed Dain the door, “you’d better think of a reason to explain your bruises.”

 

.o00o.

 

The next morning, Dain was late for breakfast.  When he finally appeared, Brangwyn gasped in horror.  His face was black and blue and he had a split lip.  “Goodness!” she exclaimed.  “What happened to you?”  Thranduil hastily covered his grazed knuckles.

 

Dain sat slowly and carefully down in his chair: the fall through the ceiling had done nothing for his ageing bones.  “I’m a silly old man,” he said wanly to the dwarf woman.  “I tripped on my robes last night and fell down the stairs.”

 

Brangwyn gave him a gentle hug.  “Poor you!” she said.  “I hope your doctor and servants are looking after you.”

 

“Yes, very well, my dear,” he muttered.  “But, I must retire to my bed, I’m afraid.  I’m sorry if I have ruined your stay, but I think it would be best if you went home.”

 

And despite protests from Brangwyn and his son, he was adamant.

 

“Don’t harass him,” said Thorin.  Then, turning to Dain:  “We would like to thank you for your excellent hospitality, but we shall pack and be out of your way by noon.”

 

Dain threw him a grateful look.

 

.o00o.

 

Later that night, as they camped out yet again, Thorin took the elven king in his arms and kissed him.

 

“I must apologise,” he said, “for the crassness of my relative’s behaviour.  But, I hope that he had as much fun as we did.”  And he collapsed into fits of laughter.

 

“Shush!” said Thranduil.  “Or the others will hear you.”

 

“Still thinking of installing a mirror?” asked Thorin.

 

“Probably not,” was the stiff response.

 

“You’re just no fun,” grinned the dwarf.

 

.o00o.

 

**Well, I’m sorry but I’ve run momentarily out of steam.  Aninnina has given me some good ideas to mull over and I shall try to write a few more stories and post them to celebrate the Extended Edition of the Battle of the Five Armies when it comes out later in the year.**

**Thank you very much for your support, kudos and comments.  It has all been very much appreciated.  See you later, I hope!**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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